


Chapter II: Missing that Spark

by SallySS



Series: Love Trunk [2]
Category: Claymore
Genre: Bisexuality, F/F, Homosexuality, Mention of Death, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SallySS/pseuds/SallySS
Summary: Excerpts from the daily life of Rona, a new addition to the warriors known as Claymore, led by the mysterious Organization. Follow her through her struggles and triumphs as she fights to survive against the flesh craved yoma and awakened beings.
-Find out who the Author of the love letter was from the previous chapter.





	

“You are a mighty warrior, slayer of yoma, protector of the people… you can make a fire!” Rona shouted down at the uncooperating sticks, but mostly to herself. The sky was beginning to change color, the sun sinking towards the horizon, and Rona had been at firemaking for an hour now without a clue as to what she was doing. She sat down and picked up the sticks again, letting out an impatient breath and setting her mind to the task.   
  
Over and over she ground the sticks together, not making so much as smoke, and only seeming to whittle away her patience.    
_ Harder,  _ she thought,  _ I need to rub them together harder.  _ __   
Again, and again, and again; she focused to the point of vexation, her blood boiling at the menial task that mocked her.   
__ Harder, faster, you need to do more. Damnit Rona you need to try harder. MORE.   
Every passing scrape reverberating in her skull till it crescendoed into a harsh cacophony of 

**YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.**   
  
_ -Snap- _ __   
__   
The sticks broke.    
  
Four little pieces in front of her, now too small to use, and she could feel the hot blood in her head, the tensed muscles in her neck as she examined the remnants through puffs of breath and sickly yellow, slitted eyes. She grabbed the sticks with a white knuckled grip and clambered to her feet, chucking them across the pond, bidding them to rot in hell. Then everything was quiet, too quiet, all she could hear was the blood rushing behind her eardrums. Her skin was prickled up curiously with the intensity of the emotion, a tickle running up her back and a coil in her gut that coaxed her fiendishly to continue the temper tantrum.   
  
Rona laid down in the grass, panting from the exertion, trying to stay the force she held within her that was always clawing to get out; she didn’t need to give it a means of escape. “In times of trouble, think of me, and that will guide your way.” she chanted back to herself and closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. “Think of calm, and think of love, it will not lead you astray.” Her mind took her away somewhere far removed, in the past.

 

Rona’s cheek pressed against the soft skin of a bosom, a moment of rest after a long day's work; the haze of summer heat finally waning to allow the closeness of the two. Thin slender fingers ran through Rona’s hair, nails gently scraping her scalp. Her ear to chest, listening to the calm steady rhythm of a heart that was dedicated to her, she wondered what the future held. Bread brought little coin, but at least they could eat what they could not sell. Hunting brought good money when it was successful, but the time and distance it took to find good hunting grounds could lead them both to starvation. Traders had abandoned the town the moment the yoma appeared, and the wealth went with them. The last bits of coin were gathered up to cleanse the town, but with the silver eyed warrior came an opportunity. Women trained of the sword, invited to join the mysterious organization, rewarded lavishly in coin. 

The idea was insane, she was no super warrior, just a city watchman and early morning baker, but that's what a good partner did, they provided for the other. The gentle stroking rhythm ceased and the fingers drew Rona’s chin up, planting a soft kiss to her lips that pulled her out of the daydream. 

 

“Press that insane notion far from mind, Rona.” The voice a lull in the still room, but stern enough. 

 

“Oh, and you are a mind reader now? It must drive you mad how often I think about the curve of your hips.” Rona grinned up at her.

 

Another tender kiss, lips plush and sweet. “Flattery will get you nowhere. I saw that spark in your eye, working up the nerve. You are not going off to die for some pity coin.”

 

“Then I just won't die.” The sassy remark earned an unamused look of disapproval from the other. Rona sat up to face her, “Look, Adi, this town is crumbling; it's about to take us with it. We need the coin. You can stay here, they pay the coin up front, and in a few years I'll be back and we can live our lives comfortably.” Rona sat up and took her lover's hand. “I can buy you a ring like you deserve.” 

 

Adaira cast her eyes down, “I don't need a ring, I need you by my side…” 

 

“You need food on the table and clothes that haven't been mended more times than I can count. Because… they've been mended a lot, not because I can't count very high.” Rona opened Adaira’s hand and put her palm against her cheek, holding it there. “Only for a few years, and we'll never have to worry about coin again.” Her eyes pleaded with her love, trying to make the other understand that they couldn't survive with how things were.

 

“And what if you die, Rona? They want you to fight yoma. If you could do that, our town wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.” She had a legitimate concern, the organization wasn't known for doing anything but eradicating yoma.

 

“Adi, the flier said nothing about fighting yoma. Besides, they know humans can't fight them, they wouldn't pay extravagant coin just to have me immediately die. They probably just need sparring partners for their Claymores. Keep ‘em sharp.”

 

“So you'll be a punching bag to some mutant, is that it?” Adaira huffed; the more they talked, the less sweet she decided to be. 

 

“You'd rather me starve to death?” Rona bit back, though immediately regretted it seeing the hurt look on Adaira’s face. “I'm doing this because I love you. I know it will be hard without me here, but when I come back we can live how we deserve to.” Rona kissed Adaira’s palm. “I promise I'll come back to you. Even if I have to cut down every damn yoma alive to do it.”   
  
That elicited a slight giggle from Adaira, “You and your wild fantasies.”    
  
Rona studied her fiancee; deep dimples set in rich olive toned skin, hair as dark and thick as a shire horse’s mane, and sepia eyes that seemed drawn by a master of the arts. Her lips were colored with just the lightest touch of coral, but so full of life, and always overflowing with whispers of love for Rona. Adaira was her rock, her steadying and shaping hand that could cool Rona’s temper with a look. She asked for nothing, and instead demanded, her cool head was certainly not her weakness.   
  
Rona wished to hold her again, to kiss her lips and to be calmed before bed, snuggled up comfy and warm...

 

She sat up, the sun having long since set and the stacked sticks still unlit, resolved that she wasn’t going to learn how to start a fire in the dark. She hoisted herself up, dragging her massive sword with her, so unused to the girth of it even after all the training, instead acclimated to the smaller arming swords that were lent out to the guardsmen. If she wasn’t going to be warmed by a fire, then she wasn’t going to be able to get to sleep, and figured she might as well keep moving. 

 

It was hard enough sleeping alone, but the weight on her mind was worse. 

 

The weight of knowing that you’re laying down to rest, all the while a town is living in fear of who will disappear before sunrise. 

 


End file.
